


Run

by dylanmassettsleatherjacket



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: F/M, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylanmassettsleatherjacket/pseuds/dylanmassettsleatherjacket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan gets some desperately-needed romantic action in the form of a girl he meets at the bar, but it's not as simple as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Wonder What You Taste Like

**Author's Note:**

> Title, chapter titles, and some very loose plot points come from the song "Run" by The Maine. In a time when Dylan actually does move into that ocean-view house. I tagged this as containing an OFC, but there is a slight possibility it could be canon because we don't know anything about a particular character's family. (It'll make sense later, I promise.)

As a celebration of completing another torturous week at work, my friend Sage and I decided to go out for drinks. Neither of us felt like driving very far, so we ended up at one of White Pine Bay’s finest dive bars. We took our seats at the counter, and Jimmy, the bartender, took our orders. Sage ordered some fancy fruity drink, while I kept it simple with a rum and Coke. After we got our drinks, we spent a little while chatting about anything and everything: our pain in the ass of a boss, how much we needed to get laid, how Sage’s aunt had managed to have a three-hour, one-sided phone conversation with her. We had each downed a few more drinks when a cute, dark-haired guy approached Sage and asked if he could buy her a drink. I gave her a knowing look and turned away, giving the two of them a little space to chat. I absentmindedly swirled my drink stirrer around in my glass before glancing up. A few seats down, I saw a rugged, blond-haired, moto jacket-clad figure tipping back a beer. After taking a sip, he glanced in my direction and gave a slight nod. I smiled in return. He turned away and gestured towards Jimmy, who nodded and brought him another beer. After popping off the cap, he stood up and moved a few seats down, closing the gap between us.  
“Did your friend leave you hanging?” he asked with a slight smirk.  
“Yeah, I guess so. But it’s okay, she needs to have some fun,” I replied, shrugging.  
“I’m Dylan,” he said, extending his hand to me.  
“Bailey,” I replied, taking it.  
“So what brings you to the best shitty place to get alcohol in White Pine Bay?” Dylan asked, placing his half-empty bottle on the counter.  
“Just a girl’s night out after work,” I replied. “What about you?”  
“Much of the same. Just killing time after work.”  
We spent the next few hours talking, or, more accurately, I got increasingly more drunk and rambled on to him about anything while mostly he just listened. I liked him, though, from what I could gather. He seemed somewhat dark and brooding, but that just made him even more appealing. After my seemingly endless rambling, I finally had enough sense to shut up and ask him about himself. He told me he had just moved to White Pine Bay a few weeks ago to be closer to his family. He said he just put down the first month’s rent on a house by the ocean.  
“I really want my little brother to move in with me,” he said. “His mother is an overbearing lunatic, and it’ll make me sick if he puts up with her bullshit for much longer.”  
“That’s really nice that you’re so protective of him,” I replied, slightly slurring my words. Then, in a moment when my mouth’s filter decided to shut down: “I’d love to see that ocean-view house sometime.”  
Dylan’s eyes darkened slightly. “That can be arranged.”  
Together we got up from our seats at the bar. Before we left, I looked to where Sage was sitting, but she wasn’t there. She must have left with that guy while I was talking to Dylan. Looks like both of us are getting some tonight, I thought.  
Dylan and I walked out to the parking lot. I started to walk away from him towards my car, but he grabbed me by the arm and turned me around, the force of his grab almost making me stumble.  
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked me incredulously.  
“To my car! And then we’re driving to your house!” I replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.  
“Fuck no. You’re not driving anywhere.” He shook his head and led me towards the opposite side of the parking lot. We stopped at a blue Ford pickup. He unlocked his door and got in, reaching over to the passenger side to unlock my door. I managed to pull myself up into the seat without much difficulty. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the mostly empty parking lot.  
I must have fallen asleep on the drive to Dylan’s house, because I was awoken to someone lightly shaking my shoulder. I looked up to see Dylan’s face hovering above me. “We’re here,” he said, helping me down from the truck.  
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t realize I fell asleep,” I slurred.  
“No worries. Let’s go inside.”  
I found myself clinging to Dylan’s arm as I tried keeping pace with him. When we reached the front door and went inside, I gasped. The house was absolutely beautiful.  
“Wow, this is amazing!” I exclaimed, almost tripping over myself in the process.  
He laughed quietly. “How about we get you comfortable, yeah?”  
I nodded in response. He picked me up and carried me towards what I assumed was his bedroom. He pushed the door open with his foot and moved me inside, carrying me over to the large bed and setting me down gently. He hovered over me for a few seconds before turning away and walking toward his dresser. He pulled his leather jacket off his muscular frame and hung it on the bedpost. He then reached for the hem of his gray t-shirt and pulled it over his head, depositing it on the floor. I took him in: muscular arms, toned chest, tattoos on his back and bicep. I bit my lip in anticipation.


	2. It's Cheaper to Be Guilty Than Lie Right Through My Teeth

I awoke the next morning in a slight haze of confusion. I glanced over at the clock; it read 11:15 A.M. Shit. I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, and my eyes settled on a leather jacket hanging on the bedpost and a gray t-shirt on the floor. Suddenly the events of last night came flooding back into my mind: meeting Dylan, driving to his place, his taking off his t-shirt and throwing it on the floor. I looked down at myself and saw that I was only in my bra and underwear. Dylan was nowhere to be found.  
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself. “What the fuck was I thinking?”  
I looked toward the corner of the bed and saw a neatly folder t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. My clothes from last night were nowhere to be found. I put on the t-shirt and sweatpants, both incredibly huge on me, and quietly wandered from the bedroom into the kitchen. I saw Dylan sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.   
“Morning,” he said, his mouth still halfway full with food.  
“Hey,” I replied somewhat apprehensively.  
“I see you found the clothes. I threw yours in the wash so they wouldn’t smell like beer and dingy bar,” he smirked.  
“Ah, thanks. That was…really nice of you,” I said, surprised at his kindness.  
“No worries. Hey, I hate to run, I gotta get off to work. I just need to check up on some things. I’ll be back in like an hour or two. You can just hang here if you want,” he offered.  
“Um, okay,” I said. I didn’t have much of a choice, considering my car was still at the bar. “But can I ask you something?” I asked apprehensively, scared of what the answer was going to be.  
“Yeah, what’s up?” he replied, standing up from the table and placing his bowl in the kitchen sink.  
“Last night, did we, you know?” I asked, stumbling over my words.  
He laughed slightly. “No, we didn’t. I couldn’t do that, not with you how you were. I may seem like an asshole-- maybe because I am an asshole-- but I would never do that.”  
“Okay, that makes me feel a lot better,” I said, incredibly relieved. “Not that you’re not attractive or appealing or anything, because you are.” I amended quickly, and immediately blushed.  
He laughed. “Well, aren’t you quite the charmer? First you insult me by saying you’re glad we didn’t fuck, then you basically say you want to fuck. Well now you’re gonna have to wait until I get back, ” he smirked.  
Shit, he’s gorgeous. I thought. At this point, he could be a murderer and I’d still wanna sleep with him.   
I watched him walk toward the front door. He stopped at a small table in the hallway and picked up his keys and a-- fuck, was that a handgun?   
“Are you an undercover cop or something?” I asked, now kind of nervous.  
“Not exactly,” he said and opened the front door. “Don’t be nervous. I’ll explain when I get back.” With that, he closed the door behind him. 

I was still a little on edge after Dylan left. What could he possibly be doing that he needed a gun? I mean, of course I knew people who were in the town’s weed business and knew they carried guns-- hell, even my dad was one of those people-- but I couldn’t imagine Dylan could already be involved after only being here for a few weeks. This thought sent my mind reeling; was he a bounty hunter, a hitman? I wanted to snoop around, but I was nervous of what else I might find. It was a strange, contradictory, feeling, but I definitely knew I was attracted to him. Somehow this added danger and curiosity only made him more desirable. The thought that he might be involved in something illegal made my head spin, but in the best way possible. I was never one to live life on the edge and take risks, but maybe it was time I did. Now I was even more eager for Dylan to return.   
I decided that I might as well take a shower before Dylan came back. I felt disgusting and my hair was a mess. I strolled into the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom and grabbed a towel before turning on the shower. I looked at myself in the mirror as I waited for the water to warm up. My mascara was ringed around my eyelids, and my hair looked like I hadn’t brushed it in weeks. I sighed and opened the shower door, grateful to rid myself of the terrible look. I stepped in and let the warm water rush over me. I grabbed the bottle of shampoo sitting on the small shelf and opened it. I hoped Dylan didn’t mind when I ended up smelling like him. I knew I sure wouldn’t be complaining. After I finished cleaning up, I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel from the rack and wrapping it around me snugly. I went back into Dylan’s room and put on his t-shirt and sweatpants.   
After getting myself settled, I went into the living room and turned on the T.V., hoping to kill the time before Dylan returned. I flipped through the channels for a little while but couldn’t find anything interesting. Sighing, I turned off the T.V. and walked into the kitchen. I was starving. Dylan had left out the box of cereal, so I figured that was good enough. I poured myself a bowl and sat down at the kitchen table. While I was eating, I imagined what would happen when Dylan got back. The image of him pinning me against the wall with his gun pointed under my chin clouded the back of my mind.   
Suddenly, I heard the front door open. I quickly shook the mental image out of my mind and looked up. Dylan walked in and stopped at the table in the hallway. He removed his gun from the back of his jeans, emptied it, and set the bullets and the empty gun on the table. He came over to the kitchen table, removed his leather jacket, and hung it from the back of the chair opposite mine.   
“Hey,” he greeted me.  
“Hey,” I replied, smiling.  
“Whatcha been up to?” he asked, smirking slightly.  
“Not much. Just took a shower and had some breakfast. Been waiting for you to come back,” I replied coyly.   
Our conversation was interrupted by the shrill sound of Dylan’s phone ringing. He sighed and went over to his jacket pocked to retrieve it.   
“Hello?” he greeted the caller. He paused for a moment while he listened to whomever was on the other end.  
“Alright, man. I’ll take care of it. No worries,” he replied. The other person relayed some more information. Dylan nodded to himself.  
“Dude, don’t worry. I can handle it. I don’t need you to watch after me like I’m a kid, alright? I’ll talk to you later, Remo,” he said before hanging up the phone. He rubbed his temple before turning back to me.  
“Did you just say ‘Remo’?” I asked, not sure if I heard him correctly.  
“Yeah…” he replied, not sure where I was going with this.  
“Is his last name Wallace by any chance?’ I continued.  
“Um, yeah it is. Why, do you know him?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact. How do you know him?” I continued, determined to make him speak up first.   
“I’m his boss,” he replied.  
“Oh,” I said, shocked. “I’m his daughter.”


End file.
